


Stardust and the galaxy in his eyes (not cheap glitter)

by justanotherboi



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 03:14:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10505262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherboi/pseuds/justanotherboi
Summary: Minseok fancies himself with the dream that one day, by a miracle dedicated to someone as nameless as him living in a rural municipality, he'll see the city. When Lu Han, bad boy (which sounds really stupid on paper) from the shining metropolis of his dreams shows up at the 7-Eleven surrounded by wheat fields, he supposes that yeah, there's a way for everything to work out.Based off that xiuhanaesthetic tweet





	1. One

Seventeen (and eleven months)

 

Minseok works at the 7-Eleven by the highway -- the only convenience store big enough to earn the title of convenience store in a something-or-other-but-otherwise-very-large kilometer radius. The glass doors give way to the flatlands, the wide expanses of gold. Which means fields. Corn, wheat, other types of cereal - if you go down a bit south, that's when you get the fruit fields. And the apple grove. If you go up a bit north, you hit the pumpkins which are also the only fields protected by a chain-link fence because around Halloween, some idiots smash their feet in them. Minseok wonders how productive that is. If you're not on Main street, then your house is probably surrounded by a field and your neighbour is a ten-minute walk away. Also, there ain't no trees.

That was life. Dead end and backwashed, behind, slow and deadly. Okay, not to that extent, but yeah. He had friends, he had a dream funded by his hours spent at the convenience store -- which was basically every living moment outside of school, eating, and sleeping -- to which, on further consideration, would never come true because of Real Life Limitations, but he was relatively happy.

Then, Kim Minseok learns that life changes.

It was mid-August when he was carefully peeling off the foil from Hershey's Kisses and flattening the aluminum out with a cream soda Crush can when the unknown sound of motorcycles introduced itself to the gas station. It was late at night, maybe between midnight and one when the automatic doors slid open and one reality revealed itself to Minseok:

         He was pretty lame. In comparison to other people. Or in general.

There was something thrilling about the leather boots and studded jackets and windswept hair and- and the smell of cigarettes and motor oil and- and the- the things. The aesthetic of rebellion. The group of guys were probably slightly older than he was, and he expected them to be buying cans of beer or asking for smokes like any teenage slash young adult rebel would do, but the tallest of them just came to pay for the gas, the other fancied a Coke flavoured slushie, and the last one bought two 1-litre cartons of strawberry milk. He noticed that maybe five boys were on the other side of the glass doors, leaning on their rides and talking to each other.

If he decided to talk to them, Minseok decided that he would either get beaten up, killed, introduced to a prostitution ring, or embarrass himself, which were all pretty equal in magnitude. He shut himself up. Even if he wanted to say Do you come from the city? Is it pretty in the night? he thought better and didn't. They left after thanking him.

Then they came the next night. And the next night. And then, one of them -- strawberry milk -- asked if Yixing was around. Yixing? Minseok repeated. Well, Yixing is asleep 'round this time, so I don't think he's out and about. The boy looked disappointed and politely asked for his address, to which Minseok declined in case they were loan sharks or something.

"You've got a cute ass. Hope to see it more." The boy said before waltzing out of the automatic doors, this time with a pocketful of Mars Bars.

That was how he first interacted with Lu Han, the asthmatic nineteen-year-old from the city decked out in leather, denim, spikes, and attitude; who couldn't smoke or do some choice drugs nor hang around people when they did aforementioned activities because the only thing he could OD on was salbutamol and terbutaline via inhaler. 

         (His squad mostly just did weed because it was available and Minseok could agree that they were pretty lazy. Really lazy. It looked more like they were going for the look, not really the lifestyle; except that Kris' father owned a karaoke bar joint that helped operate shady businesses, Zitao sold knockoff Louis Vuitton, Mouawad, and Fendi bags from his cousin's factory in Hong Kong -- although he personally liked counterfeit Gucci items, and Lu Han dabbled in both businesses and was a bit of a playboy. He didn't know much about the other guys that occasionally joined them.)

During the rest of August until mid-September, Lu Han came almost daily to the village. The rest of his group didn't enjoy a four-hour ride to the municipality, Kris was often occupied with "work", and Zitao preferred sleeping in. The older boy was soon reunited with Yixing, and Minseok couldn't really understand what Yixing was doing with that sort of boys who had the seed to become delinquents but never found the motivation, opportunity, or situation to become it. But then he saw Yixing wearing leather pants and decided that yes, Yixing could have been more than enough the type to hang around Lu Han.

Yixing was a year older than him and already graduated high school, but had to work come September and his ties with Lu Han were effectively cut off for most of the time. On the odd weekend Minseok would be doing his homework on the counter, atop the plastic covering lottery tickets, and Lu Han would waltz in to buy alcohol or sweets. Winter wasn't especially cold but enough to kill off crops; even in January, Minseok would find himself face-to-face with the weird guy.

Somehow, and Minseok can't actually remember how the heck it happened because such a concept is really nebulous, Lu Han befriended Minseok. He started learning small things about him; like the fact that Lu Han slept with all genders, to which Minseok was really surprised because that was unheard of, the fact that he had a high alcohol tolerance, that Lu Han's lip and cheek scar were actually the product of him ramming into a pole during gym class in grade seven, that he liked long walks on the beach and in contrast, could never hold a relationship for more than a week; Minseok mused that it was just because either Lu Han lacked the maturity or was just plain lazy, as he usually was. He also acquainted himself with the way that Lu Han laughed, in all of Lu Han's smiles; either cruel, happy, bitter, mocking, or as Minseok would hope to be, adoring.

Right now, Lu Han's sitting in the wooden stool he put in front of the counter, teaching Minseok how to segment an orange. "It's a great party trick, believe me, Minnie." he snorted while waving his Swiss Army knife around, carefully peeling the membrane off. At two in the morning, he couldn't ask for a more surreal experience. Do you actually do this at parties? he asks him, sucking on a blue lollipop that tastes the way Play-Dough smells. It would be ridiculous to segment an orange during a party. It's stupid. Lu Han lets out a small chuckle, grimacing when the knife-on-orange action gets a little too intense. "Nah. I drink and pop some pills. You think it's an enjoyable experience to eat a whole lemon?" Minseok sighs at that, instead opting for sticking his tongue out to see how blue it is. Why don't you try eating a lemon, I'm sure you'll love it, he tells him while rubbing at his drooping eyelids.

"Hey, open your mouth." Lu Han says abruptly, except that Lu Han already leant forward, his thumb sliding between his chin and lip and pulling down before sliding a piece of orange in his mouth. "Is it good? Crafted that shit out of my hands; that's artisanal. You better eat all of this before falling asleep during work."

         Minseok hums contently in reply, forgetting his lollipop on the counter in favour of picking out more pieces of smooth, uniformly orange, orange pieces. It bizarrely sums up Lu Han's existence: to say that he was a misunderstood bad boy would be irrational, because he's nothing like the emo, disgruntled, decked out in black sort of guys you see in books or movies and the girl exposes him as a sweet, helpless romantic. He is what he is, but not as one-dimensional as a façade of a guy who hangs around with the wrong sort and who is technically of the wrong sort. He's neither good nor bad, not lacking in bad or good qualities. The epitome of Lu Han is when he brings up bizarrely philosophical topics while mashing a straw into his slushie or feeding Minseok Mentos pieces while sharing emotional intimacy, or when he brings him old clothes in trash bags and it's just shorts and free band t-shirts and tells him to immediately change (there's no security cameras and your manager always fucks off somewhere, no one's gonna see) and to "give me a twirl -- yeah, like that, like Miss America". There's also something soft and kind and beautiful about him, and the fact that Lu Han spends half or more of his weekends with Minseok attests to that.

"Your birthday's coming up next month, yeah? I wish I could take you out. Do stuff you wanna do in the city. I think you'd like the food." Lu Han comments, his array of ear piercings catching the overhead lights. He can't help but notice the scratches blemishing his face, swinging his heart bustling in hope into something miserable.

If he thinks about it, it makes his heart ache when Lu Han shows up bandaged and and bruised and isn't ashamed in telling Minseok everything; that Lu Han trusts him so much already and never lies to him, gives him the ugly details about how it all ties in with helping Kris out. Most of the time Lu Han doesn't know the exact cause as to why Kris needs his help, but loyalty bypasses reason. In these moments Minseok dabs antiseptic on his wounds and looks at him with misery, but never pity. And then Lu Han dismisses the look, deciding to rummage around the First Aid Kit.

"You're looking a bit down." Lu Han remarks while wiping his knife with a paper towel. He cranes his neck to the side while examining the blade, exposing the finger-like bruises wrapping around his neck from his most recent scuffle -- debt collectors or something that came for Kris' father. "Want me to cut you out an apple as a swan?"

No, I'd rather you stop getting hurt; Minseok doesn't intend to say it, but it slips out anyways, his drowsy mind unable to put a filter on his mouth.

         Lu Han smiles; a mix of dreamily, kindly, and impossibly sad.

"Why?" he decides to challenge him, moving forwards to lean his forehead against his. Their breaths mingle together, and he's close enough to see how long his eyelashes are, how Lu Han's eyes twinkle with the light and his delicate and rough features, sharp jaw and prominent cheekbones, but soft edges to his eyes and soft lips and soft sighs.

Because he was stupid enough to like Lu Han.

 

o.0.o

 

Eighteen (and three months)

 

When Minseok was eating breakfast, legs crossed on his chair with Chanyeol's old pyjama shirt from 2013 draped over his thighs, Lu Han was shaking the cereal box -- he was shaking it something grand, like he had some sort of frustration and had to tussle around those wheat squares in his bitterness. It was weird, Minseok thought as he sucked on his spoon, seeing his fingers gripping the cardboard like he only had today to do this, to shake the box around unforgivably before everything would crumble apart before him. But what could he say? He just kept on shoving cereal in his mouth. As strange as the sight was he couldn't stop looking. That's just what happens, Minseok supposes if he draws conclusions from Lu Han's behaviour in the 7-Eleven. Sometimes he does it with chip bags. It's his personal relationship with sugar coated wheat squares in a tiny kitchen, shaking that box around like he's hoping for it to burst and take him away with the explosion.

He did agree to having Lu Han stay over to his small family home surrounded by wheat fields because his parents weren't home (they went to the city with Sehun's, Joonmyun’s, and Jongin's parents for church community activities), but he doesn't know if it's regret or not settling in the pit of his stomach when he thinks about crushed wheat squares lingering at the bottom of the cereal box. And there he goes, sitting on the kitchen counter with a foot perched on the backseat of the smaller boy's chair, aggressively gripping the box with a soundtrack of tumbling cereals. He's even rocking his foot on Minseok's chair. The boy doesn't have the heart to tell him to stop, so he just lets him.

He must be pretty pissed, Minseok muses. Lu Han stops his box shaking for a while, staring down at Minseok. It's like a deadpan. The beat between a joke and its punchline.

"It's none of your business." He says as he puts the box down on the counter, leaning back to open a cupboard and blindly reach for a bowl.

It's always none of Minseok's business. It's his cereal box, though. He paid for that box and Lu Han molests it. The only thing he could reply is Yeah, yeah you keep telling yourself that. All he gets is a roll of his eyes. That's not a way to treat your host during your first night over. That ain't custom. His eyes trail up to Lu Han's biceps, looking at the tattoo on his skin, and then drifting more northeast to finally look at little metal Jesus on his cross by the entry to the living room.

Lu Han's probably mad that Chanyeol hijacked his motorcycle last night. "That's some fucked up way to treat people." he spat, throwing his arm around Minseok's shoulder as they walked to his house (which amounted to forty-five minutes of Lu Han touching him). That's mainly why he's at Minseok's house in the first place, because what's the idea behind staying in cornfields overnight if some guy did  _not_  steal your motorcycle? Chanyeol's a reliable guy anyways. He was probably trying to serenade someone and needed a ride classier than his seedy white van; it'll be back at the gas station by 9, probably.

But Lu Han gripes, he bemoans and he theatrically drapes himself on the sofa like a diva in those old movies, only missing a glittery red dress and those cigarette holders and maybe a piano to throw himself on. Minseok once told him that he'd look great with a cigarette holder, those long black ones with the white tip, delicately lodged between his lips when his shift at the 7-Eleven ended; early morning with the neon lights of the gas station bright against the fog and the blue grey of the skies, clouds painted with hints of pink. You'll look elegant, he kept on retaliating when Lu Han would laugh at him. You truly will.

         And then the taller boy pushed him off the curb he was sitting on and said "Minseok, you're so fucking weird sometimes." Tumbling on the asphalt, all that Minseok could reply was Yeah, yeah I guess. He was left sprawled on the empty driveway of the station wondering why he couldn't breathe anymore.

"What are you looking at?" Lu Han asks again, "Are you going to complain that I'm bitching for nothing?" Minseok rolls his eyes as he scoffs, shirt riding up to his waist as he hooks a leg on the counter beside Lu Han's thigh. They hold a good grimace for maybe ten seconds before the black-haired boy shoves his spoon back into his mouth. He just keeps eating cereal so that he won't have to reply, because he was most certainly, totally thinking about Lu Han being a total drama queen but he didn't have to know, and Minseok was busy trying to occupy myself with salivary amylase anyways. How could he be judging him when he's thinking about enzymes right after his last exams and graduation ceremony?

Starch gets broken down into smaller and smaller pieces on the molecular level, which just means that starch becomes not starch but little starchy chains of molecules. It's funny how that happens. One day you’re an accomplished carbohydrate chain, and the next moment you’re being broken up into tiny little pieces of yourself that you don't recognize until you realize that you’re not really yourself anymore. From polysaccharide to monosaccharide for the sake of energy. Broken down to be broken down easier.

It's like that time the pair was in the grocery, watching Baekhyun stack cans like a piece of art and they just suddenly fell down from the shelves, one of them hitting his face. Lu Han was trying to keep his laughter in and Baekhyun fell in Minseok's lap like it was going to solve something, bleeding on his only pair of pants. He looked so lost in that moment, like all of his efforts were devised to just make his eyebrow piss out blood. He kept on pointing at the cans. "That one," he would say, "That one was supposed to be the sixth on the third row". Salivary amylase tore through his artistic ass in three seconds flat.

"Stop looking." Lu Han insists again, this time pouring his cereal out with an angry clatter. "And close your legs, I see your panties." Minseok snorts at that, raising an eyebrow to tell Lu Han that he's wearing boxers like a decent man, not panties, and that Lu Han has nothing to complain about. The boy just rolls his eyes before placing his bowl on the counter, leaning forward to take matters into his own hands as he grabs Minseok's calves to bend his knees towards his chest, tugging the hem of his shirt over his bent legs until it reached his feet. "Cover yourself, or else the angels of God will chide you for throwing away your virginity out of the window. Jesus would be disappointed."

But you're no virgin, why would you care? Minseok wants to snap back, but the logic in that answer doesn’t actually counter Lu Han's statement.

Minseok wishes that Lu Han would stop being so chatty and sensitive every time he's mildly inconvenienced. It doesn't match the image he tries to give off. Maybe when Lu Han's in a better place, in the summer (when he comes to the municipality almost daily) they could lie on the concrete floor of the basement of his house when it gets too hot, and he'll talk to him about pretty much anything. Then, he'll roll over to hover above Minseok and say "I really like you, Minseokie," while he brushes his bangs away and smile that smile, you know that smile that makes it seem like it can give birth? Make flowers bloom? That smile. Not his smirk or grin. And then he'll kiss Minseok. Maybe he won't kiss Minseok. He doesn't know. Sometimes, Minseok wishes for things and they never happen, or will never happen, and Yixing punches his shoulder to say "Hey man, that's so unreal," as if the word unreal meant a hundred different things at once but in reality, he just likes the word.

         So unreal.

That cat walking down the street? So unreal man, so unreal. He's always around Lu Han with his guitar, everywhere, uncaring of time and space as long as he's next to his best friend and trying to play the latest song he heard from somewhere, anywhere; from the humming of the old woman who lives by the berry fields to a beat Chanyeol was drumming on a table, strumming those strings like they were something precious. Yixing was the only reason Lu Han started biking four hours to get to their village since last year, when he finally gathered enough cash for a motorcycle; Yixing's family went out to the city often for Church activities, and he met Lu Han at a park when Kris (Lu Han and Kris aged ten at the time) was hanging off the basketball hoop and thirteen kids were just watching, waiting for him to fall and break bones. He's a great guy when you get past the outer layers of confusion.

"Minseok, Minseokie, what shampoo do you use," he asks a lot, eyes crinkled into crescents with his little dimples staring back, smiling on their own. Apparently Minseok's hair smells nice and tropical and his skin like sugar, something sweet and inviting. There's only one drug store around here for that anyways, it's not rocket science. I can tell you the brand, he always replies, but by that time Yixing's back to his guitar, humming as he plucks the strings. He's so unreal. Sometimes he stretches the vowels out to say unreeeaaaaaaal maaaaaan, can't belieeeeve how uuuunreeaaal this is.

It hits him when they're walking out of Minseok's house and heading for the gas station, stopping by to pet the big dog by the school fence. She's always there, never failing to stick her nose through that gate like it's her only chance to escape, but she's just two meters away from the gate. Lu Han screams when she gets saliva on his hand, complaining that "Shit this is expensive, I fucking paid Tao so much money for him to get me this bracelet," and he wipes his hand on Minseok's shirt. It was an ugly shirt anyways. He could punch Minseok and he wouldn't care. Well, not that he'd ever punch Minseok because that would be mean and lowkey abusive (or highkey abusive), but he can trust that Lu Han would, theoretically, have a good reason for it. Knowing Zitao, the bracelet is probably counterfeit anyways. Lu Han ends up dragging his hand across Minseok's waist before leaving it there.

         Backs always look like they were meant for arms, you know? Whenever the pastor does it to his wife or when it's the old couple that lives down the street just west of the trailer park, it's like our backs curve in just so that we can slot in an arm. It would be nice, Minseok thinks, if Lu Han did it more often. And then he could walk Minseok around town like that all summer long or forever and slip his hand under his shirt as they walk, saying "Minseok, your skin is so gross and sweaty," and laugh when he says that, leaning in for no purpose but to just laugh with someone important in the same way you lean in to say important words. His hand can then tug to pull him closer, and they would be happy like that, even if they fought or said something mean or disagreed, and they would choose to look past it in favour of walking joined at the hip, just like that.

But what hits him is that Minseok really, really, really wants to hit Lu Han and kiss him at the same time, and he guesses that says something. And maybe Lu Han thinks the same too, 'cause when they struggle to squeeze through the back door of the convenience store side by side, not bothering to separate, his eyes crinkle in some sort of quaint happiness. Minseok knows that Lu Han's been fighting less, and although a large part was due to his trait of needing to be in control and Kris' vague instructions and orders didn't sit well with him, he wants to think that's it's a small something for him.

Lu Han's pretty eyes smile on their own like they're telling him that maybe one day Minseok's weird daydreams will come true. The thought is nice and warm to his heart, and Lu Han's eyes are nothing but honest. He kisses Minseok's cheek in a familiar way, and there's no other word to really describe it because in the year he's known him, Lu Han's just touchy-feely with about everyone.

When Chanyeol motors through and pulls over in front of the 7-Eleven's main doors, Lu Han leans in to press his lips on Minseok's left temple as a short goodbye before running outside to punch the tall guy in the crisp June morning, and it brings the reassurance that maybe Lu Han will kiss Minseok in cool basements during blazing summer days and tell him that even if Minseok's not pretty like a girl, doesn't act like a typical girl or just in general is a guy, that despite the fact that he likes to kick him in the shins during soccer, Lu Han will still take care of him and hold him by the waist, just like that.

Chanyeol screams because steel-toed boots hurt like a bitch.

 

o.0.o

 

Nineteen (and four months)

 

Lu Han runs his hand through Minseok's hair while aggressively blow-drying the blond strands. He keeps on laughing like it's something grand, at even at his quietest he's giggling. Cackling. "It's my own work of art, Minseokie, you just don't understand it yet." he defends himself before directing the vicious stream of hot air in Minseok's face. Yeah, yeah you just tell yourself that, Minseok grumbles. He's not overjoyed about getting his hair bleached, getting muck slathered on his hair and finally spending too much time kneeling in front of the bathtub, bent over with Lu Han's firm hand on his back to prevent him from escaping as the taller boy rinses the dye out.

And why blond? Out of all colours, Lu Han chooses to make Minseok blond. He couldn't have been more obvious about it. Maybe brown could have been okay, but blond? His mother will kill him. Yet, he can't help but think that as stupid and dumb Lu Han is, he still spent four hours traveling just to dye Minseok's hair blond.

Tired, Minseok plops down on the edge of the bathtub, drowsily watching as Lu Han plays with the radio. Urban legends say that if you search long and hard, you can pick up a decent station. It's funny to watch because his eyebrows furrow like crazy and concentration turns into frustration. He bites his lips to prevent himself from laughing and leans on the tiled walls, playing with the hem of his faded orange t-shirt. It's the same colour as orange soda spilled on white vinyl counters, white froth included.

Lu Han settles for the pastor doing his sermon via radio because the man's just cool like that. He's in with the youth. He knows the lingo. As backwards as they are, the middle aged man firmly believes that technology is the next step to deliver the Good News. His voice is lulling, and Minseok feels himself going down, down into slumber. Sunday is a few days away, he can't help but be reminded, and church becomes insufferable in the summer but he doesn't have the heart to skip.

Sehun’s a year younger than him and a hardy advocate for skipping service. He usually replies "I ain't gonna die early, no son, not in this body." when questioned as to why he sits on car hoods in the church parking lot -- to which Lu Han, always present with his shit-eating grin, would tease him for remaining ten metres away from his principal rebelling point. "It's like skipping school and staying by the front door, fucktard." It makes Sehun throw his pop can at Lu Han, empty or half-full. Sometimes, Minseok feels like defending Lu Han but he always has to leave because service is starting, but not before Lu Han tugs on his hand and kisses somewhere on his face.

         Which, to think of it, is a bad time and place to kiss another boy. At the same time, it's being more of a rebel than Sehun who prefers to bake outside in the sun than suffocate in a church. See you, Minseok always tells him before leaving, I'll be out as soon as it finishes, okay? He always hears the motorcycle rev up to life five minutes in service, and the sound never fails to return at the exact time the service ends. Lu Han is always there to pick Minseok up on his motorbike, smiling like he came back from the war to surprise his wife.

The stuffy church is one of many symbols of summer. Before he graduated high school, it was only truly summer when your teacher hands you a sheet of paper and hark, five seconds later and it's already humid. Summer only arrived when the lights are shut off because it's so hot out and you can hear a fan working, doing that semi-circle motion as it tries to supply the classroom with cool air. It was about ending school and starting a new period of transitioning. Lu Han never thought so, but then again he skipped most of his high school and he's starting to work in his cousin's garage, to which Minseok is pretty sure belongs to some branch of the Yakuza or is somehow involved with the Yakuza. Maybe it's just the Yakuza that think that his cousin does a splendid job and go there to fix and check up their cars. All he knows is that Lu Han spends less time fooling around and works more. He genuinely enjoys working with his hands like that, and in a span of two years he can tell how much more mature and proud, how less insecure he's become. Brighter and happier for himself. But, he says that "It's very sad, Minnie, that your calendar revolves around educational activity." Does Minseok have anything to say about that? Not really. But it's fine.

Summer means that the highways around their municipality will become busier, that it won't only be heavy eighteen wheelers that stop by the diner for a greasy, filling meal before continuing on. Summer is the start of harvest season with the humming of tractors and cheap employment. It's huge storms that hit at night, and it's mosquitoes out with a vengeance. It's Lu Han who starts wearing tank tops, and people discover that whoa, you actually have something on your bones. You've been working out, Minseok once remarked when Lu Han took him out for a ride to a rest station on the highway, sipping away Five Alive juice boxes. He looked so proud.

But it's only truly summer when you realize how small everything is. That's summer for Minseok. It's not about suddenly having the leaves on trees appear in green glory, or about the sun and the birds and wildlife and the sailboats coming out on the river, no. Summer is an epiphany because Minseok is always stuck in the country while the other guys often do road trips to the city and leave him behind, and now it's not just Lu Han, Kris, and Tao that are there to remind him that he's stuck in the middle of nowhere. Minseok's family restricts him to the closest rest stations on the highway and he doesn't know why, but it's always been that way; and Minseok is kept even more busy with menial work around the village ever since last summer when the 7-Eleven isn't enough. Tied down.

The other guys are the guys he grew up with, whose parents didn't shelter them as much as they did with Minseok. Chanyeol has his old white van that dishes out solely bumpy rides to which Yixing happily embarks every time, and the rest of the seats are occupied by a constant rotation of the six other guys. Sometimes Jongdae fancies a trip to the small gas station thirty minutes down the road because the girl who gives him slushies is cute. Other times, Baekhyun and Sehun fancy eating fries at two towns down the highway. And in other days Jongin, Joonmyun, and Kyungsoo just want to get the heck out of here for road trips with no goal.

I'm a good boy, Minseok often retaliates when he's called a Momma's Boy. Kyungsoo calls him the portrait of Little House on the Prairie, sunflowers and daisies, crosses and pocket bibles and virginity. Usually, Sehun is the first to laugh because he supports sarcastic and funny Do Kyungsoo, and is immediately joined by Baekhyun who genuinely enjoys jokes. Out of their group, it's Chanyeol who is arguably the most, well, not really edgy because that word sounds dumb as heck, but different. Like Lu Han. Jongin sometimes tries to act like it, though, along with Sehun.

Out of all of them, Minseok is apparently the most, well, for lack of a better word: pure. "Whiter than white and the next angel to grace the skies," Baekhyun likes to say while bowing his head back and spreading his arms out, palms up to the heavens. Joonmyun, next contestant in line, has had his own bad streak in the past and muddied his candidature.

         (Minseok decides to not tell them that he likes Lu Han because it's one of the Original Sins.)

Summer is the realization to how reserved Minseok is as he clings onto Lu Han's back, helmet heavy on his head and watching the cars on the opposite side of the highway disappear like coloured blurs, motorcycle roaring into his ears. Do you think I'm in those religious communities they make fun of on T.V., Lu Han? Minseok likes to ask him when they're sitting on picnic benches by the gas station one hour away, picking at the strands from Lu Han's old faded denim jacket that hangs around his shoulders. It's his favourite thing of Lu Han's to wear; it has iron-on patches from all corners of the world, of niche bands to comic books to military squadron emblems. It makes Lu Han laugh, snorting and looking utterly ungraceful and somehow still handsome.

         "Either way, you're doing just fine," Lu Han once answered. "But that doesn't mean I think you belong in the middle of nowhere in the fields." 

         He thinks that that moment, which was three weeks ago, was when Lu Han formally proposed to Minseok. To move (in with him), that is. Then Lu Han shoved his hands into Minseok's front pockets to loot some spare change.

         "What," he said. "Can't a man try to buy himself some candy?"

         Yeah, yeah Lu Han, Minseok answered. That totally means that you can manhandle me any way you want. Which was a comment that made Lu Han grin wider, slapping Minseok's thighs with a whistle before strutting into the gas station to buy himself candy like any decent grown man.

Lu Han opens the bathroom window, the brisk air pulling Minseok out of his drowsy memories. The wind makes Lu Han's brown hair look like something sculpted out of the heavens. It's always styled up. He once saw it down when the boy was caught in the rain; he looked considerably younger. When the sunlight hits him, his white shirt becomes a bit see-through and Minseok's definitely taking advantage of that fact. Lu Han settles down on the tub beside him, tugging on the hem of Minseok's shorts to make the shorter boy stick to his side. Stop touching me, Minseok decides to whine because playing hard to get is always fun, and continues along the same lines as You already dyed my hair, don't touch me even more you sicko.

His eyes gravitate to Lu Han's ripped jeans. It's his type of party wear for the village because as it turns out, some guys throw intense parties in barns. With his head on Lu Han's shoulder, Minseok asks if he's going to the party tonight. He's surprised to see Lu Han laugh dismissively, shaking his head before tapping his finger on Minseok's chin, urging him to look up.

"I stopped last year, you never knew?" he snorts, flicking his forehead. Minseok sometimes feels like Lu Han is using his two years of seniority against him to treat him like a child. However, that doesn't mean that he doesn't enjoy it when the boy babies him and dotes on him. "I always felt like a fucking loser the day after."

Were the people you fooled around with not good enough? Or were you too hungover, Minseok asked along those lines, coming up with a spicy variety of ways where Lu Han could feel bad. Is it because you forgot your inhaler? Did you throw up because you coughed too much? Did you, did you contract herpes? Syphilis? Did you--

Lu Han grabbed his cheek, thumb sliding over his cheekbone and effectively shutting his wild imagination off. Minseok took the split second to admire how nice his eyebrows looked today and how warm the touch was. He vaguely remembers that he actually got his hair dyed because he lost a bet and cried like a bitch last night because they got into a fight, yet Lu Han suddenly showed up next morning and they apologized to each other nonverbally in the language of ambiguous emotions. Maybe it's one of the reasons why he likes Lu Han so much. Sometimes he fights with Baekhyun and it lasts for a week, sometimes it's with Jongdae for three days, or Kyungsoo for a month because that guy sure can hold a grudge.

"Dunno. Felt like I was cheating on my wife or something." his voice always went a bit lower, deeper, but smoother when he was serious and it made Minseok's stomach churn.

Lu Han smiled. Gently. Contrasting everything about anything Lu Han defines himself as, softening his rough edges and accentuating the small ways in which Lu Han changed since the boy was nineteen, how sweet and kind and a bit of a dork Lu Han can be, but at the same time matching everything about anything Lu Han defines himself as.

The touch was intimate; not in the feelings type of way or in the physical type of way, but in some sort of acknowledgement that Lu Han wanted to be Minseok's first (kiss, that is, but probably the other way too) in this moment in time. It came with all of the trust and simple adoration that came with the thought of a kiss, because for someone that grew up in the way Minseok did, such a kiss would be paramount.

To tell the truth, Minseok doesn't know how kisses work. When Lu Han's hand holds him in place and the other rubs tight circles on his side, he knows that Lu Han knows and that's a bit embarrassing. He's a bit afraid when he sees the older boy tilt his head to the side and lean in, and right before their lips touch his eyes crinkle. "You're supposed to close your eyes for your first kiss, dumbass."

I didn't know, Minseok answers before fluttering them shut. Don't you think that you're making too many rules?

He laughs. A genuine laugh. He busies himself with kissing along Minseok's cheeks and jaw while he keeps on talking because he's really nervous and he's just rambling. Wait, Han, Lu-ge, how far do kisses go? I don't think I'm supposed to do anything more before marriage -- do you know? Han, what if I taste bad and you won't ever want to kiss me again? If you kiss me now, how much time will it take to do it again? Lu-ge --

If it were a stupid rom-com, Lu Han would have probably kissed Minseok by then to shut him up, but he has the decency to let him finish and calm down, soothingly circling his arms around his waist and securing him, cajoling him with small touches until Minseok subsides on his own. He feels like he conducted a whole buildup to the moment and will disappoint.

         He keeps his eyes closed.

Lu Han's lips are warm. They close over his and he starts so tenderly, only moving his lips and stealing his breath away with a deep kiss. Any point of contact with Lu Han's body suddenly feels like fire on his skin, igniting and taming the flames simultaneously and Minseok feels his whole body flush in red. Lu Han pulls back a bit, ghosting his lips over Minseok's.

"Good?" he asks against his lips, hands moving upwards slowly, reveling in touching Minseok's smaller body before he's cradling his face. Minseok doesn't open his eyes, concentrating only in the way he can feel Lu Han's triumphant smirk. He nods, breath coming out shakily. Can we do it again? he whispers, surprised in how sure it sounds. "How far do you want me to go?"

He doesn't say it because that would sound completely shameless, but he grips Lu Han's shirt instead and feels himself blush, twisting the fabric in his hands and conveying his consent in some weird, nonverbal cue that he's pretty impressed that Lu Han understands.

(As much as you want to.)

Minseok finds himself backed up on the tiled wall, the small turquoise squares digging through his thin shirt but not enough to torment him. Lu Han is holding him by the side of his head, threading his fingers through the newly blond strands, and by the back of his thigh, a vice-like grip on the pale and soft skin. He looks funny, with one leg awkwardly bent in the tub and the other on the floor, straddling the side of the tub. Minseok's own legs are hooked over Lu Han's thighs, his jeans ripped so much in that area that Minseok doesn't understand why he even bothers wearing those pants.

"Trust me?"

He swallows, palms clammy.

Yes.

He doesn't have much time to say any further before Lu Han is moving forward with an open mouthed kiss, slow and sensual (which might not be the correct way to use the word 'cause Minseok doesn't know the meaning). The grip on his thigh only becomes stronger during the kiss and it makes fire blaze in his stomach, tilting his head backwards to accommodate to Lu Han's height and indirectly begging for more. He's being effectively pushed against the wall when Lu Han moves forward and pushes their hips flush, the hand on the side of his head lightly tugging on his strands of hair and Lu Han nips at his lips. He gasps at the action, and it hits Minseok that there's actually tongue involved in kisses. French kiss? Do the French actually propagate that activity? He finds himself tugging at Lu Han's shirt in a slight panic of not knowing what to do. It's when the other boy's tongue swipes at the seam of his lips and his thumb soothingly rubs into his thigh that oh, Minseok understands.

He does not expect what happens after he parts his mouth open.

It's hot. Like, actually hot. It's breathtaking and a sensory overload because Lu Han's hand, his warm hand bigger than his own in contrast is slipping under the fabric of his loose shorts, advancing to his upper thigh and the intimate, invasive, and completely welcomed touch makes him loop his arms around Lu Han's neck, pulling him closer. The elder's tongue is moving in deep, slow movements, completely foreign and wet (not moist because the word is disgusting) but it feels so, so good. When they part for a quick breath Minseok allows himself to open his eyes. Lu Han's brown hair is a bit mussed and his cheeks are incredibly pink, but his eyes -- why are they so dark? The boy leans forward again, this time bracing his weight with an arm against the wall right next to Minseok's head, his other hand abandoning its exploration of Minseok's right thigh in favour of slipping under his shirt, and he shudders at the touch.

Lu Han's doe eyes make him think as the boy leans in again to steal his breath, a bit sloppy and slightly drunk in his movements as he sighs into Minseok's mouth. His hand is on his back, pushing their chests together. It's not necessarily lust or desire that pulls Lu Han towards Minseok, he supposes, but he thinks it's adoration and love. And if he ever thought over and recalled different moments in his life, to which life could have only started in the summer of when he was seventeen because everything before was dreary and daft and meaningless; not catalyzed to life by introduction to Lu Han, but to the introduction of hope and opportunity and other spicy things, then Lu Han might have been one of the only people that believed that this introduction was real. Tangible. Could tell that as Lu Han kissed his jawline, his neck, tugged his shirt down his shoulder to press his tongue against his collarbone, sucking and grazing his teeth over his skin, that he was probably one of the only people that believed that Minseok deserved --  _deserves_  better. His hands fling up to grip at Lu Han's brown strands as he throws his head back, back arching and moaning out loud in the small bathroom.

From that point on, the tight coil of heat in his stomach became tighter and his lips kept on parting to let out small sounds that made Lu Han grin wider, impishly laughing as he continued to wind Minseok up. Lu Han started plucking at his nipples -- God, he never -- never thought that they could be sensitive in  _that_  manner. The older boy seemed to know exactly where to touch Minseok and make him crumble.

He was lost to Lu Han, wholly devoted and incapable of listening and speaking and hearing. A hand slipped under his boxers and caught him by surprise. He softly pushed Lu Han's chest away, looking at him questionably. He must've looked like a downright mess; sweating a bit, probably as red as cherries, and blond hair arranged in a messy halo around him. Lu Han arched an eyebrow at him, and oh -- oh -- his hand, it --

Lu Han  _squeezed_. Minseok keened, louder than any sound that slipped past through his lips, hands scrambling to ground himself down. His hips bucked into Lu Han's hand and he sought to hide himself, finally deciding to smother his face into his neck. He tried asking what he -- he -- Lu Han, what are you -- are you -- doing?

Wordlessly but with a provocative glance to which Minseok can't believe that Lu Han has the cheek to do this now, strong hands pull him into Lu Han's lap, a bit precarious because the edge of the bathtub isn't tested and proven and maybe Lu Han's thighs are aching at this point, but at least it's larger than the average tub wall. He winds his legs around Lu Han's waist, panting as the boy palms his crotch through his boxers.

Lu Han hooked his fingers around the elastic band of his short gym shorts and did away with them and his boxers at once, pulling them down to mid-thigh before he fisted Minseok's half-hard length. He stroked it gently at first, pleasure pooling in Minseok's stomach and hot, spreading through his body and setting it ablaze. Like his kisses, he started out softly and progressed to rougher, harder, squeezing tightly at the base and pinching the head once clear liquid started pooling at the tip. Minseok's back was arched, amrs back around Lu Han's neck, his moans muffled against his neck. He briefly wondered, in some salvaged moment of lucidity, if biting down would reduce his embarrassment. The thought washed away in a few seconds when Lu Han's free hand started wandering around again, squeezing his ass all while pumping his dick. Fingers slipped between his cheeks and started to press -- where, he didn't know, but the pressure continued to build and build in pleasure and intensity, and combined with Lu Han stroking him he was turning near delirious.

His thighs were shaking, trembling, and he couldn't breathe anymore, his red cheeks felt wet with tears and he couldn't tell what he was saying; pleads or Lu Han's name or anything at this point, not even silenced when the boy kisses him again, whimpering and moaning in his mouth and so close to crying out how good it felt. It was agonizing and cruel because the fire wouldn't stop growing and the pleasure couldn't stop, setting his nerves ablaze and washing over his body in waves and shudders and shivers. Lu Han was sucking under his earlobe, whispering things that Minseok thought were terribly shameful. Said that Minseok was doing  _so, so well_ , that he was  _so, so sensitive, so, so good_ , that he waited so damn long for this and it was  _so, so worth it_ , that he was  _so fuckable, so hot, so fucking good, so_  --

White lights danced behind his eyelids and it hit so abruptly, strongly; left him screaming. He felt fresh tears escape his eyes and his thighs quaked around Lu Han's waist as he came, chest rising up and down rapidly and Lu Han wouldn't stop touching him, milking the pleasure out and letting him ride out his high. It started to burn him, oversensitive and keening, tiredly pushing the boy away when it was too much.

Lu Han's hand was covered with streaks of white, and dots of the fluid found themselves on his own orange shirt. Minseok collapsed into Lu Han's lap and awaiting arms, pulled into a tight hug after Lu Han wiped his hand off with toilet paper.

He thinks that he felt a hard bulge through the other's pants, but once his eyes fluttered shut they never opened again for long.

         Just like that, in the tiny bathroom of his childhood home, with the forgotten voice on the radio dutifully saying  _In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen_ , Minseok had his first orgasm.

When he woke up he was in his bed feeling oddly rested and satisfied, wearing a pink t-shirt Lu Han once gave him that had dubious English sentences on it and a fresh pair of boxers -- blue, because Lu Han bought him a pack of coloured ones saying that if he kept on wearing black or white it would be too boring and wouldn't bring out the swell of his ass. He didn't know how to reply, so he just took the package into his hands because it was free underwear. Minseok could hear his mother singing in the kitchen down the hallway of their bungalow, probably unaware about the events that transpired earlier. She'd chase him out if she knew. When he rolled on his side he heard crinkling and found a note shoved into the elastic band of his boxers:

 

_Min_ _♡_ _seok_ _♡_ _kie_

_I cant believe u fell asleep without letting my cock get some action the fuck man I abstain and this is what I get?? i had to beat the meat by my lonesome_

_I overheard that ksoo and jongdae were movin 2 the city and needed a place 2 rent so pls contact the number at the bottom of the paper ok hes a nice dude that’s tryna rent out an apartment (u can get a good discount price if u mention me) it’s a good location n the tower is rite next 2 mine_ _♡♡♡_ _it’s a good size 4 three ppl… ;)_

_i know u might not wanna but i also know u wanna so like talk with ur mom or something. u know that i can hook u up with a job too or u can do like jongdae and find one w/the church networking he did right?? Only if u want 2 tho_

_from your_ _♡_ _Lu-Ge_ _♡_

 

He sighed, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, smoothing out the wrinkles in the paper. He noticed the writing on the back and curiously flipped the notes over, peering at the blue ink.

 

_I love you._

 

His bedroom window was open, giving way to kilometres of flatlands stretching out far beyond into the open, a landscape of green and yellow under a clear blue sky. The air smelled like hay and his bed like fabric softener, the bedroom door opened and giving him a view of the bathroom with its turquoise walls. He thought of apartment towers and motorcycles and pretty, mildly dangerous boys. He had opportunity staring back at him, an arm's reach away and tantalizing, glimmering with hope and the promise of A Future and still reassuring that his golden, middle of nowhere municipality will still be there for him, even if he's away from it.

         (I love you too.)

 


	2. Two

Nineteen (and seven months)

 

The world worked in mysterious ways.

Perhaps it was constructed like clockwork: exacting and precise, intricately designed so that everything could fall into place. Minseok liked it that way. It made everything seem relevant; like how the pastor solemnly nods and says that God has a plan for all of us. Not exactly fate or destiny, but that everything existed for a reason that was methodically prepared and planned. He loved the idea. It was like some sort of nod to everything that ever happened. He brought it up to Lu Han when he was over at Minseok's, parents gone for a week to volunteer at a soup kitchen. The brunet was setting up the cardboard boxes, opening them up one by one, while Minseok was folding his clothes. Yeah, yeah you're, you're special, Lu-ge -- can't you see that? You belong in this world, it's so big but you're here, livin' your life. You know that a star exploded jes' so that you could be created, Lu-ge? You're made of a star that went to supernova, and millions and millions of years later it gave you to this big world.

Lu Han smiled charmingly, hair falling into his face and making him look softer than usual. He was just wearing a navy t-shirt and ripped, washed jeans, and if he didn't have his tattoos winding 'round him (with a new one on his neck: roses) with little silver crosses hanging from his ear, he'd look handsomely plain; in the normal fashion, like the type of boy his parents would find respectable. He got up and sat next to Minseok on the bed, lightly laughing as he leans in.

        When Lu Han kisses him, he likes to use his left hand to hold Minseok's head with his thumb pressing against the base of his cheekbone and the rest of his fingers tangled in his hair. Minseok always keeps his eyes closed.

        "You know you're precious to me?" Lu Han mumbled against his lips. Minseok nodded, dreamily sighing when he was kissed again. They fell back on the bed, content to just kiss and touch.

If the world really worked that way, it would explain why Minseok was miraculously able to move. Lu Han was clever to have involved Kyungsoo and Jongdae in the deal because his parents were more trusting that with them, Minseok couldn't die or be influenced by demons, etcetera. Wasn't Lu Han always clever? That's why Kris liked him. It was hard to convince them and it seemed impossible, but soon Minseok found himself squashed between Kyungsoo and Jongdae in the back of Chanyeol's white van, accompanied by Joonmyun who worried for them. The rest of the seats were occupied by Chanyeol's old things; the more he grew older, the more he started to move into his van.

        Joonmyun was in the passenger seat and looked back at the three of them, fondness in his eyes as he looked at Minseok, two years younger than him, and probably thought that his poor, adorable child was being sent off into a chaotic world. Jongdae made fun of him while Kyungsoo looked for his knife set; he was enrolled into a culinary college and spent a large portion of his savings on some nice, threatening knives.

Chanyeol stuck a tape of Madonna in his van, and _Like a Virgin_ blasted through their open windows as they sped down the highway. Jongdae waggled his eyebrows at Minseok and yelled (it was hard to hear anyone speak) that "Maybe we'll find a gal to pop Seok's cherry, right?" which made everyone laugh, including Kyungsoo. Which made Minseok very uncomfortable.

He technically gave his virginity to Lu Han four days ago, when Lu Han returned to Minseok's small bedroom with a cup of tea in his hands that he set on the wrapped-up night table for Minseok. He slipped socks on his little cold feet and made him sit up, softly kissing him before helping him wake up. He thinks that the elder was caught in a weird emotion, fondly looking at Minseok and cradling his small face in his hands, perhaps quietly contemplating all of their lives (or just wondering what he'd like to eat for breakfast); but it was with the early morning sun casted as a window-shaped light over the mattress, oblique to Minseok's body and catching the little particles of dust in the room, lighting up half of Lu Han's face -- and just the sight of it made Minseok feel like jelly, realizing that he was completely infatuated with Lu Han since about forever. He didn't know what to expect, lying down on his back and a bit sleepy, but Lu Han held his hands while rocking him to his climax.

        (But he wasn't going to tell anyone that)

But, anyways, regardless of weird white van shenanigans, of Joonmyun ditching them in favour of going shopping (not before straightening their clothes and acting like a beautiful motherly figure who is only bested by Jongdae himself) and Chanyeol driving off to buy food in bulk for his family, if the world truly worked in an exacting manner, then Minseok can't even fathom why it was necessary for the moving van to arrive late.

Kyungsoo always had loose change in his pockets, so they spent some time anxiously looking through a telephone book and calling the moving company. Jongdae waited outside in case it would arrive. It was getting hot outside, and all three of them were starving and sweaty; Kyungsoo leaned on the wall as he twisted the cord of the payphone, looking positively dead while Minseok looked outside to see Jongdae nervously flit around.

Jongdae had a series of mannerisms he wasn't even aware of. In service, when the pastor would say something that Jongdae found well commendable, his head would bow back slightly and he'd nod, eyes screwed shut like he was concentrating and replaying those words in his minds over and over again, completely entranced. It was nice in some way, that habit, because Minseok's eyes would drift to the pastor whenever it happened and there always seemed to be some little glint of recognition that Jongdae appreciated his words when not many attendees were listening. Jongdae also liked humming along to Yixing's guitar, blow into empty bottles, and wince after he sneezed. Right now, he was fiddling with the latch of his watch, the metal clicking in rapid shots.

"Don't suppose y'all are gonna deliver some good news?" he asked, leaning against the concrete wall when Minseok and Kyungsoo exited the building. His watch made a sad  _click_  when Kyungsoo shook his head. "Pity. I'm sweatin' like a sinner in church! You sure you didn't misunderstand? What if they got the heebie-jeebies by lookin' straight at you and decided that we'll never get our furniture?"

"You're a fucktard." Kyungsoo replied as he wiped the sweat off his brow. Jongdae pouted.

"Jeez Louise, that's not something to say to your senior!"

"It's just a year."

"Don't give me none of that talk, Do Kyungsoo." Jongdae whined before pulling Minseok in front of him, using him as a meat shield.

People always say that you choose your friends, but corn fields let a lot to be desired; beggars can't be choosers and whomever lives with you, sticks with you. He practically grew up with Kyungsoo, held his hands more times than he could count and slept in the same bed as him more times than he could count -- Jongdae and Baekhyun were a year older (as well as Chanyeol) and thus they couldn't have class together, but they all stuck to each other like glue nevertheless.

Kyungsoo was an enigma. If anyone could crack him, they should win a Nobel Prize. Still, they shared numerous memorable memories such as:

_-Watcha doing?_

_-Eatin' chocolate._

_-Where d'ya get it?_

_-Doggie dropped it._

_-Where’s the doggie?_

_-At th'store._

_-Whats'e doin?_

_-Makin' more._

"Minseok, stay behind. We're gonna go to that pizza place that looked shady and come back. I swear to God I've witnessed three drug deals happen so far -- maybe you shouldn't be wearing a band t-shirt that says 'Black Opium Death Metal', you're attracting all the outlaws."

It's was free, though, Minseok pouts before sending the pair off, slinking into the shade from the apartment's entrance. He sighed as he watched them leave, boredom and useless thoughts seeping into his mind while the traffic in front of him looked more like a long line of parked cars.

Kyungsoo firmly believed that there were portals to Hell that existed in this world; he even made a point to threaten to throw people in one of them. "Who let Satan in church?" Lu Han once snorted when he was picking Minseok up after service, Kris having tagged along (a rare occurrence) and engaged in some weird 4-d interactions with Kyungsoo. Minseok was sitting on the leather at the back of the motorcycle and Lu Han was turned around to face him, Minseok's foot on his stomach because he decided to tie Minseok's shoes. He just sat on the little seat, looking beside him where Kris and Kyungsoo were trying to make an elaborate handshake that coincidentally looked like the summoning of a demon.

While recalling the memory, Minseok looks down at his tattered, once-white basketball shoes, laces undone, before lifting his head back up to look at the traffic straight out of a hellish conception. It was a long line, all cars stalled and miserable with the windows rolled all the way down, dusty, thick emanations from the exhaust choking the air.

A man, clad in a ruffled white collared shirt with his grey blazer thrown on the passenger seat, was wiping his forehead with his head bent back in frustration. It was one of those September afternoons where the summer heat remained, scorching but without the same intensity from the sun. Paired with the burn from traffic, the heat was something special. His radio was blasting, and even from where Minseok was in front of his apartment building, he could hear every song playing crystal clear.

A flash of auburn hair caught his attention by his feet. Startled, Minseok looked down, greeted by the familiar sight of Lu Han's brand new denim jacket. When Lu Han tied his shoes, he was always careful so that it wasn't too tight, and it was a bit on the loose side. You gave me a fright, Minseok chided when Lu Han stood back up, but his complaint fell flat when he saw the gleeful expression Lu Han wore.

"You're here! I brought you some things to eat 'cause the way traffic's going, there's no fucking way your shit's gonna present itself in the following hour. Where's the other two guys?" he took out an orange creamsicle from the black plastic bag hanging from his arm, quickly ripping the wrapper off and taking Minseok's hand so that he could hold it. "Food? Yeah, you guys are really gonna need it. Terrible. Hey, you like the neighbourhood? Really sweet, like I told you. If you ever wondered, the closest place where people actually do drug deals is like, five blocks down so it's safe. You'd think the police'd've found out but I bet they're in it anyways. Also, no creepy serial killers hangin' 'round in the night. It's fucking swell. Also, you look really cute today."

He stuck the creamsicle in his mouth, nodding as Lu Han spoke, pink tinging his cheeks at the last statement. He was tugged by the arm to sit by the curb, feet in the loading zone where the truck would end up eventually. The lane next to it was filled with cars. Minseok leaned his head on Lu Han's shoulder after he took his jacket off, showing off his toned arms with ink winding around his skin, wide shoulders, and sun-kissed skin that would hold its colour well into December and start to fade come January, probably. The initial excitement of Minseok moving hasn't died down yet, Lu Han often bursting into laughter or giggling because he thought that it was grand to have Minseok live so close to him. The feeling was playing between the lines of commonality and heart-fluttering, and Minseok believes that after all the time he's spent with Lu Han, it never fades; only growing stronger in fondness and dumb happiness.

"Minnie, you're drifting." Lu Han flicks his forehead, lips tugged into a sideways smile. He likes that smile. Sometimes, it's tinged with sadness, and it's usually when Lu Han comes around to make up with Minseok after a petty fight or when Minseok wraps his arms around Lu Han's waist to hug him tight from behind when he's worried about him. Sometimes, it's confident and cocky and flat-out attractive, teasing Minseok for doing some dumb shit. Yeah, yeah just flick my forehead like that, you psycho, Minseok whines. His eyes blink and readjust to the light, surrounding sounds suddenly clearer as he comes back into reality. The sweaty man is still near Minseok with his charcoal car, radio churning out an upbeat song that has Minseok swaying and Lu Han looking at Minseok like he wants to fool around.

He gets up and runs a hand through his auburn locks and pushes them backwards, exposing his face and bringing out the sharp angles of his jawline. He then adjusts his tank top as well as his pants, taps the tips of his boots on the sidewalk, and finally extends a hand towards Minseok. "Care to dance with me?"

You're a dumbass, Minseok replies haughtily after wiping his sticky fingers on his mesh shorts, but he accepts.

        When he takes Lu Han's hand, he makes sure to interlace their fingers. He's a bit in love with the way their bodies contrast, how Lu Han's hand is bigger than his with veins running on them and tracing up his arm, how Minseok's arms look pale and squishy to the touch whilst Lu Han's are the opposite and marked in lines of black and a few bursts of colour, just, how his body feels so nice against his and how, Minseok likes to think, they complement each other on the outside just as well as on the inside.

It's mainstream pop music mixed with disco -- it's music to dance to, and it's completely unjustifiable if your feet don’t get moving to the pulsating beat of the songs. They laugh boisterously with the same happiness as children, swinging each other around and jumping, looking stupid as heck and like a pair of idiots, but Minseok has never enjoyed himself so much in such a long time, his heart hammering in his chest and his stomach fluttering with happy butterflies, carried by the swinging emotion of- of -- something.

The man, probably bored out of his mind as are a couple of bystanders, looks at Lu Han twirling Minseok around with amusement. Minseok accidentally makes eye contact with him five songs later, when they're calming down and Lu Han's arm is holding him by the waist, laughing uncontrollably into his neck and holding him closer with every gasp of air, idly spinning both around. The man's tired eyes look at him with a sort of acceptance, giving him a small smile before finally, finally being able to inch forward in the infernal traffic.

        It was strange. It felt like he was accepted as a person. The validation of a stranger benign to him felt like he had accomplished something just by existing. Both of Lu Han's hands were now holding his hips, languidly swaying Minseok around to the slow song they can hear from a nearby radio.

"You two are disgusting, this is a public place. Being under the apartment entrance in the shade isn't hiding anything." Kyungsoo's voice is heard over Lu Han's small whispers by his ear, interrupting and breaking the spell before Minseok sees Jongdae hitting Kyungsoo and call him a dispirited widow. "Alright then, sorry. Jesus."

"Fuck off." Lu Han spits out, glaring. Kyungsoo and Jongdae kind of jolt back, and he guesses that Lu Han looks a bit like a seasoned gang member that killed five men with his bare hands. He waltzes over to take the bags of takeout and invites the three back to the curb to eat.

(He thinks that he can get used to this life.)

 

o.0.o

 

Twenty (and one month)

 

Lu Han likes asking him if he needs anything, his lips then tugging up into this prideful smile as if being responsible of somebody in some way was all he ever wanted. Minseok indulges him and makes sure that Lu Han can feel like he's worth enough to have someone depend on him, although he fully knows that he would do just fine in the city himself. He contently shuffles his spare time between the apartment he shares with Kyungsoo and Jongdae and with Lu Han's apartment, otherwise working in the diner by the highway exit alongside Jongdae. He likes cleaning up both apartments, sometimes going into Lu Han’s when the taller is gone working to pick clothes off the floor and wash dishes. However, sometimes he unlocks the door to find Kris dicking around.

Interestingly, he never put much thought into Kris until he moved here. He often hung around Lu Han's apartment (Are you high? he liked asking him because he never saw someone under the influence, and Kris would roll his eyes and say that Lu Han coughing and punching him for smoking a blunt would sap the fun out of everything) and it was made evident that Kris never put much thought into him, either. The pair rapidly became friends, however. He was this tall sort of boy with a permanent scowl, a heavier load of ink than Lu Han and more clothes, often longer. He had this long, black coat that reached his ankles that he'd wear on his shoulders, giving off this imposing look. "Yeah, he likes to think he's the shit," Lu Han once described him when he was trying to make little braids in Minseok's hair when he was seventeen. "But he's a fucking idiot. He trips on his shoelaces. He should try out velcro or something because damn, he's not getting anywhere at this pace."

He is, in fact, currently standing outside of Lu Han's door, staring at the tall figure leaning on the doorway, shirtless. Bystanders would accuse Minseok of ogling Kris' well-toned body, but he was, in reality, fascinated by the dragon that curled around his right forearm and spread over his pectoral. It had such an expression! Caught between vicious, visceral anger and the pride of being a dragon. Kris' hair was wet, having used Lu Han's shower. They were having a conversation about how Yixing got a car from a friend who tried to get rid of his drug money because he got spooked and just gave the car to Yixing. Apparently, people owe a lot of favours from him, but neither of them know what those favours are; but at least Yixing can come over for extended periods of time. It soon turned to tattoos.

"The guy who made that dragon made the skull on my wrist," Kris remarks, flicking his left hand near Minseok's face. It was a nice skull. What was your first tattoo? he asks him, shivering a bit in his potato sack of a purple and green windbreaker. Kris looks away, deep in thought, before showing off the tulip on his bicep. It's not bad.

When Kris brings up his hand to ruffle Minseok's blond hair, Minseok sees Kris'  _actual_  first tattoo. It's in his palm in black ink. Two straight lines and a curve: a smiley face. It looks like a quick doodle you'd make in your friend's notebooks during class, wanting to annoy them but without being mean. Rushed and imprecise with the two vertical lines for eyes a bit slanted but otherwise looking sympathetic. "Soft grunge vandalism," Sehun would probably call it, leaning back on a chair at the village diner and looking out into the distance, pushing the notebook to the centre of the table for all to admire. Jongin would trace over it with pink marker and add " _Pastel_  soft grunge vandalism." Then they'd high-five each other.

        He doesn't mention it. Obviously, it's a product of a sixteen-year-old boy shakily trying his hand out to the art of inking.

"Thanks." Kris says after a bout of silence as he rearranges Minseok's windbreaker, straightening it and smoothing the wrinkles. He looks a bit awkward. "For, uh," he looks downright embarrassed. "For reminding me that there's other stuff in the world. That I'm not just stuck in a dog-eat-dog world and that I gotta stick around old pops even if I don't want to. Sorry -- that sounded really bad, sorry. I just mean that since Lu Han started hanging around you and Yixing more, it just… started putting other priorities into perspective. Other ways of viewing life.”

Minseok blushes, looking down at his feet. Naw, you're just saying that, I didn't do anything.

"Tell that to Han," Kris snorts before ruffling his hair again. He asks him Where is Hannie anyways, he's not on shift right now -- and before the other boy finishes his sentence to tell him that Lu Han went out to buy something, there's a shrill cry of Minseok's name resonating in the hallway, surprising him so much that there's a flash of white in his eyes.

        Minseok might've been eighteen. Lu Han took a bad tumble and was sitting on the wooden stool, white shirt pushed all the way up to the base of his neck and, despite himself, wincing as Minseok cleaned the scratches out. He was in the process of putting multicoloured plasters on his back, pressing the adhesive on his skin with a firm push of his thumb, when Lu Han asked if he could kiss the pain away. Never wanting to disappoint a chance to play along, Minseok did; a kiss for every blue bandage, a kiss and a blow of air for every yellow bandage, two kisses for purple and three for green; and a jab at Lu Han being childish for orange. The taller boy thought it was real fun.

        It's just weird 'cause it was almost always just the two of them in the 7-eleven. They didn't think about what they did and how it looked like. So then -- with the tattoo Lu Han's back that could've belonged in an art museum as a fine Chinese woodblock print of a landscape exposed -- when kissing Band-Aids to humour his patient, Minseok's father pushed the glass doors open and stared, dumbfounded, as Minseok quickly pulled apart and tugged Lu Han's shirt down in one quick move. His ears were burning and he tried to stutter out an excuse, but his father just walked away with disappointment; you know, the kind that no child wants to see from their parent. Sehun received it when he smuggled a dog home.

But, the point was that his father looked at him the same way, and that face soon contorted into not so much hatred, but something very close to it. He didn't suspect that he ever told his mother about the plaster incident, but getting his hair ruffled by Kris (half naked and positively threatening) was probably enough of a hint to connect Minseok's half-hearted lies when he'd come back home looking gleeful, avoiding the mention of Lu Han. She had seen Lu Han once, when she happened to see him parked in front of Yixing's home; told him that he shouldn’t hang around terrible boys like that because no girl would ever like him. 

        Minseok doesn't think that the incident of being accidentally outed by his boyfriend’s best friend deserves much explanation. Or exposition. He was dragged down the stairs, all ten flights, thinking about the stark worry in Kris's face and the lingering press of his fingers on his wrist. Yelled at. Disappointment. Apparently, it was a surprise visit and Jongdae kindly directed them to Lu Han's (he had no idea, only Kyungsoo knew but he was planning on telling), and now Minseok's slumped next to the fire exit outside in his dumb windbreaker, parents gone.

Crying is stupid. Yixing liked to smile and hug Minseok, saying that expressing his emotions was important and that his crying face was cute anyways, but his happy face was cuter. He didn't know why, but the older, dazed boy was always with Minseok during hardships. "Don't be like that, hey, hey Minseokie, turn that frown upside down, yeah? Cute little Minseokie, it's okay to cry, but not for too long or else your head's all gonna hurt and your throat too, and your eyes will be all red and puffy, yeah? That's unreal man, how you get treated, so unreal!" He thinks that with Yixing, Minseok understood what true platonic love meant. But he still thought crying was a waste of time. Not even for not too long like Yixing wanted him to cry; just not at all. He found himself frowning at the sidewalk.

Cellophane crinkled above him.

He looked up from his crouched position, greeted by a more than familiar face holding a single yellow rose. And now, Minseok truly felt like crying.

        Lu Han, wrapped up in a scarf and crouching in front of Minseok, ended up giving him the rose after Minseok vaguely explained what happened. "Kid at the cash didn't know what flowers meant, so we just took the prettiest. You're prettier than any flower in the world, you know that? Kinder and smarter and shit than anything else, you know that?" Minseok nodded, holding it into his hands like it was something precious. It's just since you're a guy and stuff, he mumbled when the older boy asked why his parents were like that.

An unusual expression of misery overtook Lu Han's pretty face, like he was trying to tell Minseok that it was something else, too; that his parents didn't like Lu Han, but he didn't have the heart to tell that to Lu Han out loud, it would just be plain mean. It would be an injustice to let him be insulted like that. "I don't get why you keep on following someone like me," he finished by saying, smiling bitter-sweetly.

He didn't like it when Lu Han made himself seem like a bad kid. For all he did, the doubt never made itself shown -- and when it did, it put in evidence the little insecurity which Minseok firmly believes has started to slowly disappear since Lu Han started working more and hung out less with his band of unruly misfits.

Minseok thinks that Lu Han deserves to have an entire book written about him. Preferably by Minseok. And it'd, it'd just be about these tiny nonsensical things and maybe people will pick it up, bend the paperback cover a bit -- because Lu Han prefers paperback over hard cover, something about nothing important and just a tiny preference -- flip through the pages until the end to look at the page number, and read a passage. Depending on if the book was arranged chronologically or by category, perhaps they'd find something like this:

_Lu Han stores the beer cans next to the yogurts, and then next to the yogurts put the pop cans because he doesn't want me to make a mistake. And I guess that's super stupid of him to do because I don't think that I'm dumb enough to think that a beer can is a pop can, but maybe it's just an excuse so that he doesn't get mixed up._

Or even:

_I once asked Lu Han if he knew what iridescent meant. He was all slumped on the couch and pulled me on top so he was all squished, which was all kinds stupid. He said he liked having my head on his chest, it made him feel secure and kind of important. Then I had to tip my head back and ask him again because he wasn't listening, he was listening to Seo Taiji playin' on the tape. Lu Han said that it was the colour of my eyes in the sun._

Then they would put it down and scowl. They wouldn't like it, but that would be because they were outsiders to the type of intimacy and the way Lu Han ran deep in Minseok's heart. The most probable reason, however, would be that they'd take one look at him, with tattoos and earrings and arrogant face and decide that he would never be worth anything. And while people like that do exist in the world, Minseok thinks, Lu Han's always set himself apart from everything. Not good, not bad, but interminably beautiful to Minseok's eyes, in the same way that nobody can be judged as white or black. Perennially and constantly grey.

        Perhaps by this unique distinction of Lu Han, both from the way he is perceived and the way he truly is, is what gives him the merit of a personalized, publicized, passionate love letter the thickness of a brick.

He clutched the rose in his hand, the cellophane rustling. Because it's you, Minseok said, 'cause there wouldn't be any other reason to love you except that it's you.

        It was the first time he saw tears in Lu Han's eyes, but he couldn't be very sure because his vision was too blurry. He thinks that the sun caught the glimmers of tears in those pretty, impossibly vast and wide and possibly holding the universe, eyes. It broke his heart to think that words like that were probably never said to Lu Han.

He felt a hand on the underside of his chin, encouraging him to look up. His worries were shushed away, replaced by this sort of post-crisis emptiness. He stared into Lu Han's wet brown eyes vacantly. Their breaths disappeared into the cold air in puffs of white, twisting into the wind; the sky was painted candy pink, small retreats of blue still visible but slowly giving way to the setting sun. It was a bit chilly, but warm hands soon cradled his face and made warmth bloom in his cheeks.

"Hey. Don't cry so much."

When Lu Han kissed him (passionately and with all intent to convey emotions into a single action), crouched in front of him on the sidewalk of a deserted one-way road with the bizarre smell of the heavy metal door and staircase of the side of the apartment building, cold autumn air making Minseok shiver under his windbreaker, he thinks that it looked like something out of Hollywood. You would be able to see the setting sun between their heads, making them look like half-silhouettes and emphasizing where they kissed. Maybe there would be one shot to show that Minseok's cold and shivering and he couldn't feel his own lips before, but he feels so, so warm now. The pink sky would change to an orange colour, rich and hopelessly romantic (and a colour Lu Han wanted to dye his hair next), with the skyline by the horizon. And the scene would last for a good couple of seconds, maybe a minute with the golden song from the soundtrack that everyone would remember, and then the credits would roll.

 

o.0.o

 

Twenty (and three months)

 

Lu Han once held a copy of the New Testament in his hands.  Minseok won't admit that he nicked it from Baekhyun who, in turn, nicked it from a hotel room. Baekhyun didn't need one -- he volunteered in handing out little pocket sized ones whenever he swung by the city. "Check this new bitch out," he once said as he waved around a little piece of the Bible whose cover was designed to look like a locker. "To get into the heart of the youth, we must become the youth."

        The only reason why Minseok had to steal a stolen New Testament was because his parents had an expensive version of the Bible and wouldn't let him too close to it. He was too cheap to spend money and had too much pride to ask for one, and Baekhyun never let him have pocket sized religious texts.

The older boy patted it, measured the width using his fingers as units, flipped the thin pages and smelled the book. You never touched somethin' like that before, Lu-ge? Minseok asked, brushing his teeth by the kitchen sink and sitting on the counter when Lu Han was inspecting it. The toothpaste he was using was minty and grainy; it was like a material representation of whenever the old man who sat outside of his trailer in an aluminum chair would tell anyone passing by that  _You never get nothin' good wit'out givin' away somethin' precious. Never. Life's cheatin' us_. Of course, he was mostly talking about That Skank Who Left Me Twenty Years Ago, but it applied to many things in life.

"It's so thin." Lu Han remarked as he slipped it into an inside pocket of his leather jacket. Minseok stuck his hands inside, surprised that it fit. Lu Han was settled between his legs, anyways, moving an arm to rest on Minseok's hip. "Why's it so small? Ran out of material? Wait, Jesus dies. I guess they did." He spat into the sink, choking at the same time at Lu Han's remark. Yeah, yeah that's exactly how it happened, genius, he said with his brow furrowed. Lu Han rolled his eyes, sneering. "Man, stop accusing me for being a wayward guy. It's just that last time I got my hands on something religious, it was way thicker than this." he sighed, watching Minseok lean sideways to rinse his mouth out and put his toothbrush down.

It was night, carrying the humidity that stayed behind as the cool breeze made the curtains flutter, any sounds of nightlife bearing the sort of lull characteristic of the time; Lu Han was getting ready for a shift to his cousin's. His bizarre, erratic working schedule only served to fuel Minseok's daydreams about Lu Han sticking his hands into the Lamborghini of a tattooed gang member with angry eyebrows. It's a safe job, right? he once asked out of the blue when Lu Han was cutting a rose out of a mango. He kind of looked at him with this face he reserved for Minseok's weird questions, dancing between bemusement and mockery and a bit enamoured. He guessed that it meant that the only danger was workplace accidents and not gang-related affairs.

Lu Han was absentmindedly humming as his hands winded around Minseok's waist and as his lips placed a kiss on his pulse. Minseok felt cool hands petting his head, playing with the locks of orange hair before going down his neck. His brow furrowed at the affection, confused as to why, of all places, this had to happen; notably right after a conversation about the Bible. That's just Lu Han, he guesses. Putting his hands where they don't belong without caring. If it ever bothered Minseok Lu Han would've probably stopped a long time ago.

Before he knows it, Minseok's rationality is disappearing in the smell of Lu Han's cologne (soft enough to not induce the older boy into an asthma attack but strong enough to linger on Minseok's clothes, skin, thoughts and heart), on the proximity of Lu Han settled between his thighs and the overwhelming presence he feels from the elder. Slowly, he looks up to find Lu Han staring at him with this odd intensity, immediately flicking his eyes back down. His whole body shivered when Lu Han dragged a blunt nail down his spine before smoothing his palm over his lower back. 

"Look at me," Lu Han urged as his other hand reached for Minseok's jaw, gently encouraging to look up. Minseok scowled as he did so, trying to jab at him by saying Yeah, yeah why don't you just- just- you, doing this, I don't-- "I won't see you t'ill tomorrow night. Wanna immortalize you."

He replies with a I don't think it works that way, blinking flusteredly when a thumb brushes over his lips, complimented over how pretty and pink and pouty they are.

Lu Han's wearing the jacket where the black leather is smooth on the front with embroidery at the back, with not too many metal zippers which feel rough on his skin. Minseok raises his bare thighs a bit more, pressing them against Lu Han's sides to feel the cool material. He hates to admit it, but with the hem of his loose shorts having slid down to the base of his hips, the feeling of the jacket on his naked skin is one of his favourites.

I'll miss you, then, Minseok ends up mumbling, fire of teasing and playing with Lu Han gone as he presses his hands to his chest when the boy leans in, kissing him softly. He can feel the outline of the book through his jacket. It's just a small moment in his life, insignificant and not unlike many since he moved to the city, but at the same time the little detail is everything that he ever dreamt of when sitting behind the counter of the 7-Eleven, scratching out the remains of a defunct lottery ticket with a spoon and watching Lu Han reading comics. He guesses that he fact that he can call Lu Han kissing him mundane and common is an achievement of its own, and it sends his heart fluttering and his breath stuttering, countering the thought of this being completely average and normal.

There's a chuckle on Lu Han's lips as he parts from Minseok, eventually passing to a snort and a quick laugh. When Minseok ask, What's got you like taffy -- you know, like Laffy Taffy, Lu Han sneaks his hands under his shorts to smooth his hands over plush thighs and grin like an idiot. "The guys at work were asking me if I had a new whore to fuck," he spoke in a low voice by Minseok's ear as if it were a secret, pausing to press his lips under his lobe as a sweet gesture to counteract his harsh words. "Told them that nah, wasn't the case, 'cause you know, you're nothing -- not at all like that, nothing of the sort. Y'should've seen the look in their eyes."

        He fails to see the humour. The playful glint in Lu Han's eyes tell him that he notices, another soft kiss pressed under his ear before he starts talking again. "They were asking because they thought I was looking happy for the past year. Dunno why they concluded that it was because of something completely crude, but whatever."

His ears burn at the statement; Minseok feels dumb for letting Lu Han's words get to him when his cheeks become pink and his mouth curves upwards into glee, cheeks bunching up as he beams shyly at Lu Han. He can't help but ask Really? Truly? as he plays with the collar of Lu Han's black t-shirt.

(Minseok thinks that when Lu Han smiles like that, the stars shine for him and the sun and moon rise uniquely to love him.)

Lu Han slides him off the counter and maneuvers them ten steps away to the bedroom. He's dumped on the mattress, feigning offence as he glares at Lu Han exaggeratedly, watching him sit down next to him after removing his jacket. The New Testament slides out of the inner pocket during the movement, landing with a small  _thump!_ on the floor. Minseok thinks that this is one of his favourite parts of being in this little apartment; this small box in a bigger box and two lives out of billions marking out an extensive story together. Lu Han tugs the loose shorts out of the way, not before slowly dragging them down Minseok's white, smooth thighs as if he was teasing himself with the sight. His rosy lips reacquaint themselves with Minseok's skin, starting near his knee and trailing upwards. He's thrown off course when Minseok tries to tug him back up, desperate for a kiss and the feeling of Lu Han's tongue languidly playing in his mouth. Kissing Lu Han makes him feel drifty and dreamy, setting his body into this pleasurable haze where he loses his mind slowly and the empty space is filled with Lu Han, Lu Han, Lu Han.

        Lu Han likes to keep the bedsheets white. They're so soft and old and mold around Minseok's naked body easily, caressing his soft curves; he sinks in them, hair askew with the folds kissing his body, white on white. Lu Han seems to enjoy the sight because whenever his eyes land on Minseok, they turn somewhat predatory.

Minseok asks Lu Han if he's turning religious. He was pretty sure he was the only one between the two of them, which made Lu Han roll his eyes. "Yeah, I'm a fucking saint, you know?"

And maybe Lu Han was one.

        You know, Minseok softly said as he tilted his head back, breathing harshly; wasn't your first miracle when you, when you brought Kris back to life after he got beaten up real bad? And you had a second -- he furrowed his eyebrows, recalling pieces of a conversation -- when you fell from the third floor with Tao, broke his fall and none didn't die.

        Lu Han hovered above Minseok and kissed him, trailing his lips across his jawline and snickering against his skin. Minseok's legs slid against the sheets when he grabbed his arms and pinned them above his head, closing onto his mouth and deepening the kiss.

        "What's the third?" Lu Han asked jokingly after they broke apart.

        Me.

Lu Han grinned. His lips were a bit chapped and he has his scar, and they weren't the plumpest or reddest or glossiest bunch out there, but Minseok was enchanted by the action, by how his eyes crinkled with affection and his hands cupped his cheeks, tilting his head so that he could press his lips against Minseok.

        Lu Han loved --  _loves_  -- him with a passion, Minseok thought as the boy started kissing down his neck. The way he dragged his teeth across his skin, the worship of his tongue and the climaxing love of his hands, his fingers, his eyes flitting to look at his every time again with desire painted in his pupils was the testimony to it. Lu Han loves with his words and his touches. Loves him in a way that made his blood boil and his mind turn to mush, boneless and pliant against Lu Han. Kiss-drunk and needy.

He's snapped out of his thoughts when Lu Han starts playing with the buds on his chest, lips wrapping around a burst of pink and sucking. His other hand plays with the unattended nipple (Lu Han just has a fixation on them and he's completely okay with it), and as his chest is ravished Minseok lets pretty, bashful moans come out of his puffy red lips, feeling sensitive and vulnerable and it's so good. His hands tangled in Lu Han's hair as he moved lower, bringing the tug of his teeth and soothing kisses with him.

He licked his lips before speaking again, breathless and a bit dizzy but still coherent. If you're a saint, then what -- Minseok was flipped over on his stomach as he spoke, not minding when a thick pillow was shoved under his hips to hold them up, just miffed that he had to finish his sentence in the pillow his face is in -- am I? He felt kisses on his back, suddenly feeling Lu Han smirk between his shoulder blades. Lu Han pulled back to lean next to Minseok's ear, one hand tracing mindless shapes where his mouth was and the other wandering down, a lubed (since when?) finger pressing against his entrance.

        "You're an angel without wings, Kim Minseok." Lu Han says in a low voice, sounding like sweet honey and any other, every other cliché there exists.

His face falls into an even hotter flush when Lu Han's finger circles around his rim, lube spreading against the skin before the tip enters him. He can't stop the way his hips jolt. Slowly, he's dragging it in and out until leisurely adding a second one, twisting and curling the two, feeling Minseok's walls clamp around his fingers and it drives Minseok crazy as he tries to muffle his moans, biting his lip and twisting the pillowcase in his hands; he's lacking air and a series of constricted noises come out of his throat and Lu Han -- he smirks once he adds the third, and has the audacity to laugh while Minseok feels like he might die by how worked up he is. He would've collapsed if it weren't for the pillow by the way his thighs are shaking.

"Tell me if it hurts," Lu Han sits back to strip, belt buckle clinking, and leans forward to bring his clean hand up to brush at his forehead. His hand is cool on his skin. Minseok nods, feeling feverish as he turns his head to the side so that Lu Han gives him one last, deep kiss before he spreads Minseok's thighs apart. "Because we can both agree that we've not reached that kinky stage in our relationship." 

        Minseok tries to kick Lu Han.

His breath gets caught in his throat when Lu Han enters him, the sensation unbearingly hot. While Minseok can easily come just with Lu Han's long fingers -- which does happen because Lu Han seems to find it  _hilarious_  that he's able to affect Minseok so much -- this way he just feels way fuller, clenching around the thick cock. He moans when Lu Han pushes all the way in, the other's cool hand petting his hair and calming him.

"Fuck. You're so perfect, shit." he thinks he likes it when Lu Han moans.

Lu Han's cock dragged out slowly, letting Minseok feel it reach deep and stretch him before only the tip remained. His hand was on his upper back, pushing Minseok down and immobilizing him, the small detail leaving the smaller of the two impossibly weak and aroused, as the other groped his ass between his thrusts, kneading the globes and turning the skin pink; Minseok moaned loudly in the room, unable to breathe in pillow. His voice would occasionally quiver when Lu Han's thrusts were deeper, turned near delirious by the treatment he was receiving. 

There was soon a voice by his ear, warm breath tickling his skin, to tell him that Lu Han had been thinking about this all day -- wanted to touch Minseok so badly and push him against the mattress because he was so tempting. His hand left his ass to reach under Minseok and drag up his stomach with no clear purpose but to touch his soft and smooth skin, making Minseok whimper when he pinched his abused nipples. The voice said that he loved him so much, was so glad that he could hold Minseok like this and fuck his brains out; a weird mixture of heartfelt and crass that was, in the end, something Lu Han always managed to squeeze into everything he did.

When he was flipped onto his back, legs bent and thighs forcibly held apart with every thrust that was soon turning harder, he could finally see Lu Han's lustful expression. The word lustful was pretty weird, considering that he would only hear about it in the context of the seven deadly sins, but he could work with it. Lust isn't very appealing phonetically either. It rhymes with thrust, bust, must; but the 'L' ruins it. It's like someone mispronounced all three of those words.

His moans turn breathless and high-pitched, head thrown back into the pillow as Lu Han increases his pace, hips meeting his ass harshly. Their bodies rock together fluidly, each of Lu Han's thrusts deep and controlled; Minseok hates it when Lu Han drags it out, waiting for Minseok's breaking point when he's completely dazed and desperate, tears flooding his eyes and red in the face and continuously moaning; he begs for something while looking up with tears melting on his cheeks, and it could just be anything, driven crazy with the need for Lu Han; messily kissing him and unable to keep up with anything, writhing and pushing his ass back with every thrust to bring him closer, please, closer to climax.

The elder's mouth is occupied with his neck, one hand gripping his waist and the other smoothing over the planes of his body.  Minseok's knees are bent high with some godawful flexibility he never knew existed, completely vulnerable to Lu Han and he's being praised for it, told that he's such a good boy to him, that he listens so well. He hates it because it feels like too much pleasure, too much of a bright fire flowing through his veins and pulsing, and Lu Han's hands are rough when they grab his hips to finally, please, finally, go deeper, harsher, better. Minseok likes it gentle and loving, but like this -- he does like it, maybe more.

When he finally comes, he's completely wrecked, cum staining his chest in white with Lu Han's name as a scream; his back is arched and his thighs shake and his body keeps on twitching, crying out because he feels so much and Lu Han's cock keeps driving into his hole, faster and faster and faster and it hurts in the way he's oversensitive and in the way it gives him pleasure, tugging Lu Han close to ghost over his lips and whispering his name like a mantra. Warmth soon seeps in his stomach and he lets out a small whimper, Lu Han sucking a dark mark on his neck as he rolls his hips, satisfied and blissed out on his high.

        He's not exactly coherent when Lu Han pulls out, holding Minseok's naked body against his and pressing small, fleeting kisses on his skin as a reward. He's drowsy and exhausted, but he wraps his arms around Lu Han's neck and sighs, fuck-happy and content.

Lu Han loves him like so, made love to him like so, gave and gave and gave until Minseok didn't know what to do except incessantly let Lu Han's name clumsily fall from his lips, squirming and moaning and crying until he burst. He loves him with a fire that lingers on his body for hours and spurs Minseok on to ask, beg, press his body against his for a touch or a kiss or else he'd die all over again. Never quite the romantic, Lu Han always, always made sure that his love was expressed through pleasure.

It was Lu Han's way of doing things. And it somewhat made sense in the way that he picked the New Testament back up and into his pocket again when he left the room, having already cleaned Minseok up with a warm, damp towel and dressed him in the loosest, softest clothes he could find and sealed his farewell with the sweetest kiss he could conjure; when he flicked the lights off, and his silhouetted figure looked so bizarrely wise. He asked him, voice drowsy and slow and jumbled, if he was going to keep it. Minseok had always been the only one to church, to pray, and steal a copy of the New Testament, never Lu Han; but the boy reached into his leather jacket and flipped the book over thrice, pursing his lips as if assessing the quality before smiling. "It won't hurt."

Yeah, that's what he said. He found himself thinking about those words a week later. It made sense in the sort of careless (not lacking in any type of love or emotion but rather constraint) way Lu Han made love to him. Because in contrast to Minseok, who felt his face burn whenever he caught sight of his mother or father after his first kiss and all that followed; whose village spoke in whispers that held double standards for sexuality and degraded the so-called deviants; the way that Lu Han readily loved another boy like so was bizarre.

The New Testament was just another "Good read, seven out of ten, Jesus shouldn't have died but the resuscitation was slick, can we have takeout tonight?" and something to learn. He was feeding Minseok peaches while the latter was ironing their clothes one day when Minseok's parents were brought up, quietly and hushed like it was a forbidden subject; Lu Han didn't hide the disdain from his features, eyeing the book in contempt. "I think it's dumb to limit yourself because that's what you think it meant," Lu Han noticed. "Because if that book is what's making your parents assholes, it's a fucking stupid reason." he supposed that those words were true.

Minseok was currently sitting in front of the vanity, toying with his orange hair and nervously looking at the telephone. The New Testament was opened to the parable where Jesus curses a fig tree because Lu Han found it hilarious. Tomorrow, he decides, would be when he'd dial the first phone number he ever memorized and make up with his parents – he never thought of them as assholes, like Lu Han put it. They had their own convictions, and Minseok just happened to deviate from them.

Lu Han appears from the kitchen, hair in a tussled mess and oil stains on his face. What transpired during work was apparently wild. He looked a bit tired, but he was holding a pastry box and split into a wide grin. It made his heart flutter a little, suddenly feeling like he was seventeen and bursting in anticipation as he thought about Lu Han showing up at the 7-Eleven to say hello.

After putting the box on the vanity, the older boy walks towards Minseok and pulls him into a tight hug from behind, rambling on about this fight that transpired between this guy that didn't want to pay for the repairs and his cousin was trying to hold back two of his employees (he never said it, but Minseok was sure one of them was Lu Han) from beating this guy's brains out. Minseok laughed, turning around to face Lu Han and grimacing, telling him that You look disgusting, you're stinking up the apartment.

        They took their shower and ate red velvet cake on the sofa bed that Kris or Tao would sometimes sleep on, watching a replay of the football game from last weekend. Lu Han made crude comments and would shout eloquent injuries and ridiculous criticisms, all to make Minseok burst into laughter.

 

o.0.o

 

Twenty (and ten months)

 

Minseok keeps his diner uniform as well as his clothes for visiting Kris or Tao on the small sliver of their balcony. Kyungsoo and Jongdae do the same with their uniforms, too used to the smell of cigarettes but put off by it in their own home. The baby blue diner button ups and black slacks flutter in the wind with the white chef's outfit, along with a pile of Minseok's clothes on the ground by the corner. Their concrete apartment building just looks like an immense laundry line or hamper, with every slim balcony covered in clothes set out to dry.  Whenever he comes back from work or visits, he makes sure to go home first and shower before going to Lu Han's. It's mostly pungent scents that trigger his asthma.

Doesn't stop him from wearing cologne.

The glass door slides open and Minseok expects to see Kyungsoo sleepily reaching out for his clothes and stumbling on his own feet, but it's somehow Lu Han reaching down to grab Minseok's waist, tugging him up from his crouched position.

"Dude, I got a cat." Lu Han gushes with a now standing up Minseok in his arms, gripping him tightly. He coughs a bit from the smell of stale cigarettes and promptly ushers them both into the apartment. Clearly, to be a bad boy you kind of need a clean health record, which Lu Han lacks. Is that why you're treating me like one? He grumbles once Lu Han pushes him against the counter, making him sit on it before raiding the fridge. "No, I've always treated you like this. But fuck, he's so cute -- I'll name him Zhu or Baozi."

He returns with a can of orange Crush, the drink fizzing when he opens it. "I needed a cat for my kitten, right?" he smirks, kissing his cheek and pinching his hips playfully. Minseok squirms on the vinyl, looking into Lu Han's eyes to tell him that he sounded extremely perverted, but he catches sight of the tampon shoved up his nose before he says anything (despite all reservations, it’s very efficient). You fought again, he comments softly.

Lu Han looks impossibly sorry, gnawing on his bottom lip. It makes him uneasy, and the idea that this has become a rare occurrence doesn't bring much comfort when Lu Han's all battered and bloody. He reaches back into a cupboard in the kitchen where they keep the first aid kit -- Jongdae cuts himself a lot on knives when he cooks, so much that they must keep all the gauze and bandages in the kitchen. Kyungsoo, who does substantially more kitchen work than either of them and even chops vegetables as practice, has never sustained one injury. Jongdae is also a bit shaky when he waits tables; while Minseok can easily pile four, five dishes on his hands and forearms, Jongdae has issues with one in each hand. He puts the white metal box on the counter, feeling nostalgic of the 7-Eleven as he takes his supplies out.

"I promise it's the last time," Lu Han says after his face is cleaned out and his shirt is in the sink, soaking in water and soap to get rid of bloodstains. "It really is. Kris -- he, you know, it was his last stint with his pops. Old man wasn’t happy ‘bout it, but he got this new guy working for him. Went out with a bang. With me. I was careful, I really was; hey, if it was back in the days, I would've been way more reckless. Thought of you, right? Didn't want to fuck up. Thought about you and wanted to be safe enough to take care of you and all that crap, yeah? Please, I don't want you to be sad." he didn't reply, gently assessing the bruises on Lu Han's ribs, face solemn. He didn't know if he was doubting Lu Han or if he was just worried for him, but once his head was moved up to look into Lu Han's eyes, he just felt -- you know, when your gut just reacts and there's butterflies in your stomach, and your cheeks feel warm because you know that it's true and your heart decides that it's precious and important.

        Joonmyun liked to put on airs when he would be the supervisor during Sunday school alongside Yixing when Minseok was about ten, twelve years old. Minseok and Kyungsoo would sit in the corner of the library -- school library that was, in the end, the only library in the municipality -- and disappear into the beanbags, and Joonmyun would shake his head and pull them out. "Listen to the council of God," he'd say, but when Minseok grew older he realized that Joonmyun had no idea what he was saying. But one day, he just sat beside the pair, ruffled their hair, and sighed. "There's a point of epiphany when you realize that God--" and he jabbed his finger to their chests, his nail digging into their skin through their shirts, "Is in your heart. It's an important feeling, treasure it."

Minseok never received such an epiphany, but when he looked into Lu Han's brown eyes, he came to the same electrifying conclusion that he had nearly every day:

        I just adore you, Minseok would tell Lu Han with his small hands cradling his head. I wish I knew what makes you think I'm so special.

        And Lu Han would shrug, his eyes still conveying a love that felt -- _was_ \-- true.

The tip of his nose receives a soft kiss when Lu Han leans in, using Minseok's pastel sweater as a grip to his sides. The corner of his eye receives the same treatment, and then the blossoming swell of his cheeks before his earlobe, hands gently tugging on it and admiring the snowflake earring hanging from it. The music in the background from the tape player was slow, subconsciously sending Minseok into absentminded swaying with a small tug in his lips as Lu Han slid his hand down to take his hand, fingers gliding over his painted nails; pastel gradients with little sparkles. They looked mighty pretty.

It was done after a trip to Tao's place; it was dimply lit in orange light, both his and his sister's rooms had pin-up posters plastered on the walls, cigarette smoke clung heavily to the air and every doorway was adorned with door beads hanging from top to bottom. He really likes Tao's sister. She has his eyes, with the dark circles under them which are always emphasized due to her pale skin -- she spends her days in the nail parlor and could talk about any stranger's problems and it looked like it came out of a telenovela; Minseok can't understand how any regular woman off the street getting her nails done could have such a juicy life -- and his nose, although her face is longer and her eyes are a bit hidden by the thick layer of winged eyeliner she put on.

Interestingly, if you whipped your head around real fast and saw her face as you did it, the only thing you'd see would be that eyeliner and two little but otherwise plump patches of bright purple lipstick. She kind of has that crude sort of beauty where you felt like it only came from makeup only and she did look regular with it off, but she retained that sort of poise and grace that inspires her to put plastic knockoffs of expensive glass hairpins in her damaged orange hair.

Tao helped out with the nails, giggling. They were both the same age and talking to him was easy; he had a soft heart and had no filter. It felt out of place to have such light, pretty nails in such a house. Minseok's ears were next, Tao chiding him for not having them pierced earlier.

        "Look, Kris is giving you all his reject shit from when he tries to buy his girlfriends and they turn him down. He's your sugar daddy. Hey, don't fucking look at me like that, sweetie. It's an indirect sugar daddy. Like, Gege gets the sugar, but Ge gives the goods. Don't lie to me, I know what he gives you -- baby blue lace panties with bows haven't escaped my radar, you bitch. I can't believe you fit in women's underwear. I can't believe he thinks he can get a girlfriend by buying those as gifts. Like, I know he gives you the less risky ones and they're good quality and shit, but come on! You wear those with Gege? Does he fuck you when -- okay, sorry, went too far. But anyways, he gave you perfume and earrings, and you wear the perfume to go to work 'cause Lu Han's gonna fucking die if you wear it anywhere near him, but you can't have earrings? How fucking wrong is that? Don't put all that money to waste, we're piercing those bitches! If I take things from Kris' girlfriend attempts? Yeah, it's called stealing."

Zitao's sister gave a sort of mocking laugh as she walked into the kitchen, beads rustling, towards the small table in the middle of the tiled floors.

She looked professional, handling the gun with surprising dexterity considering the length of her nails and the intricacy of them -- she wasn't afraid that this would bring damage. She brought it closer to Minseok ears and kindly told Minseok that he could squeeze her little Taozi's hand if it hurt too much, and pierced his ears when she counted to two in Mandarin. The element of surprise, Tao told him. You'd think it would be on three, but it was on two.

He expected it to hurt more, but it was more of a slow burn. He felt like his ears were on fire, but it wasn't excruciating. Tao's sister put the gun back on the table, took the cigarette from the ashtray and took a long drag from it while examining Minseok's ears. She blew out the smoke once she felt like it was a job well done, nodding as she looked at him from a different angle.

"Bring him over more, he's the only good influence you'll ever get," she said as she left after ruffling Minseok's hair, disappearing behind the curtain of beads. Tao shouted a "Bye, slut!" with a smug expression, amplified when met by a "Catch ya later, gigolo!".

Lu Han sneaked his cold hand up Minseok's sweater, smirking at the small gasp before wrapping his arm around Minseok's waist to pull him forwards on the counter. "I still think of you as a kitten, no matter how stupid you think it sounds, dumbass." Congrats Lu-ge, Minseok replies as he wraps his arms around Lu Han's neck, You're a real adult now. You have independent thought. He laughs when Lu Han rolls his eyes and sneaks his other hand under the sweater, pushing under his thigh to give his bottom a quick squeeze to tease him. "I have a grey cat and a pretty kitty. I should get an orange cat next. Then I'll have three cats." he captures his pink lips after saying that, hands roaming up his ribcage and pushing their chests together.

        Jongdae bursts into the apartment building, yelling that he and Minseok got a check from home, delivered by Chanyeol's blessed hands himself. And accidentally catches Minseok and Lu Han during a very intimate-looking moment, but truthfully Lu Han was just shirtless and between Minseok's thighs while he was sitting on the counter, with his hands up his pastel purple sweater while they were kissing. Okay, so maybe that was a little more than expected. But that's just Jongdae's fault for feeling attacked.

Lu Han grumbled that he had to go back home to check on Kris and his cat after Jongdae screamed at him for ruining Minseok's purity, leaving Minseok on the couch to look at the check in his hands sent by his parents. It was the amount of money that would be a lot to spend but not a lot to keep in a bank, but with careful mathematics it was just enough -- just, just enough to top off Minseok's savings for community college. It was somewhat heartfelt. Forgive and forget, unconditional love and all that nonsense. Jongdae received a bigger sum.

        Maybe he was jealous and a little irked by the reason why. But this was Jongdae -- he would probably spend half on other people.

Verily, two weeks later they were treated by Jongdae to the small restaurant six blocks down the street, a hole in the wall run by an old woman with the typical dark past, spiced up with convictions of murder let unproven and tear-soaked with one resounding love story and a child who died of sickness. All the guys he grew up with were on trip to the city and were invited, grinning like idiots when Minseok arrived behind Lu Han with their hands interlaced. Sehun pretended to choke while Jongin gagged on air.

It felt so bittersweet, like homesickness even if he was home and nostalgia which, upon better thought, didn't offer that much of a nicer life but contained all memories of childhood. He thought about how the fields would bow in the wind and bend, yellow shimmering in the golden sun as dust would fly up into the air when a car passed through an unpaved road; the late night runs through cornfields in October, speaking in raised and ushered whispers and eventually screaming like maniacs because of a scare amongst the tall stalks of corn; beanbags in libraries and hours spent drawing doodles during Bible study, buying new markers and watching T.V. in Baekhyun's house because he was in the only family with one; the neon light of the 7-eleven gazing upon the flatlands like a jewel of technology in the morning fog of grey morning, waiting by the propane tanks for sale and lying down on the asphalt spread eagled, eyes squinting as his ears would search for the rumbling hum of a motorcycle.

Yixing smiled as he strummed his guitar; he stayed over at Lu Han's for two weeks and left five days ago, but he was back for today. Chanyeol joined in with his own guitar, creative soul in the midst of discovery as he tried and succeeded to get Kyungsoo to feed him as he played. The old woman laughed, a raspy noise as she gave them their dishes, leaving after a lingering ruffle to Minseok's hair because she found that he looked like her deceased son and he was a regular. Zitao was trying to slap Sehun for having said something stupid, reaching over Jongin's lap; they were dumb and they were impossibly touching, like some sort of bonding between friends that seemed impossible. Joonmyun grimaced and turned to Jongdae, continuing a conversation along with Baekhyun about food and shops in the city.

Minseok closed his eyes, senses overwhelmed by the music, the chatter and clatter of dishes, bubbling soup and meat on the tabletop barbecue, the yells and whispers and traffic; the smells and the small touches, bumps and smacks and punches, hopelessly trying to catch up on a conversation between Lu Han, Kris, and Sehun. He realized how opportune he was in this world, how lucky he was -- and he once said so to Lu Han in an early morning, pressed closely to his body on the mattress with his face in his chest. "It's because you work hard," Lu Han sleepily replied as he caressed Minseok's soft skin, voice raw and deep and addictive to his ears. "N'life's hard but y'keep workin' hard, you, you keep livin' even if it's hard."

 

He breathed. He opened his eyes:

Lu Han looked down at the boy leaning against his chest and smiled with all the love he had.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! this was like the first story i had with loads of people who liked it and i felt rly blessed so thank u lmao, i hope i can make stuff people will continue to enjoy in the future

**Author's Note:**

> i couldnt indent and im kinda sad about it
> 
> yeah now its on ao3 cool thanks for reading!


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